


feeling of warmth

by ProfMyrtle



Category: Odin Sphere
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Foreplay, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfMyrtle/pseuds/ProfMyrtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles about two couples enjoying their first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Velvet and Cornelius

**Author's Note:**

> Fic trade with a friend.
> 
> Apologies for my rustiness. I think the last time I wrote smut I was sixteen.

More than anything, Cornelius is attentive to Velvet and her levels of comfort.

It’s because he remembers the first time, riding high on passion and his blooming love. He’d been hasty, arrogant even, in moving to kiss her first. His fingers worked into her silken hair, pushing back her hood, and causing the locks interwoven with pearls to settle upon her chest. She’d shivered, then, and he thought it was from pleasure. It wasn’t until they were about to shed the rest of their garments that she finally pushed him away with a broken sob.

For the rest of that night, he held her gently and hushed her whispered apologies with ones of his own. 

Now, after so many centuries together, after the curse was broken, he looks to her constantly so as to not hurt her again. He desires her, desires a child with her, but he wants her happiness above all else. 

He waits for her start, as she eventually does, removing her hood completely and meeting his eyes. She initiates the kiss, too, softly pressing her lips against his. She pauses, at times, and Cornelius is patient, simply resting his forehead on hers before they resume. 

When his arms wrap around her, pulling her closer, his fingers trace the shape of her arched back up to the fabric of her top. “Is it alright if I-” he starts to ask, feeling her pulse pounding like a rabbit’s, and his voice cracks a little. 

“Yes,” she says, with a slight nod. Then, she adds, “But only if I can help you undress, too.” 

In many ways, stripped of all else, their bodies are alike. Lean yet muscular, Cornelius’ from his princely hunts ages past and the sword fighting he still practices, and Velvet from her years of living in the woods and carrying heavy burdens in her chains. He tries to show reverence, continuing to kiss along her jawline, her neck, and shoulders. He hesitates when his lips reach one of the particularly bad scars right on her shoulder blade, but the small moan she makes tell him this isn’t a mistake. 

She surprises him, in trying to do something for him by nibbling his ear. Still, he finds he likes it, oddly, and it leads to further ways to explore each other in small ways. He finds that fondling her breasts seems to be the most pleasing for her, as far as foreplay goes, although she prefers him to massage her nipples rather than pinch them. He also realizes the small squeaks she makes when he does this to be the most charming. Velvet finds out that simple ways of biting and exciting Cornelius are better relieved by her stroking his stiffness, even eventually helping to guide it inside her after they’ve settled down on the bed. 

They fall into each other’s rhythm steadily, although she feels like she can’t keep up as a tight coil forms with in her, ready to burst. When she does finally orgasm, she cries out, digging her nails into his arms, and Cornelius can barely contain a wave of panic. Breathless, she finds his hand and gives it a kiss and squeeze. He relaxes at that, and lays down beside her, pulling her into an embrace and enjoying the smell of sweat mixed with fragrant oils in her hair.

“Cornelius?” She prompts, finally catching a breath.

“Yes?”

She readjusts herself to face him, and nuzzles his bare chest. “I love you.”

“As I do you.”


	2. Gwendolyn and Oswald

It’s only after she’s been so close to losing him that Gwendolyn realizes how empty the bed has been.

Of course, it’s been empty ever since she woke up from her long sleep. On her first night upon discovering Oswald was her husband, she had expected with great trepidation that he would come to bed eventually. Although it was his right, as she had acknowledged at first, he never entered her bed nor her room at all without her leave. At first, she’d been relieved, but now…

Now that she’s learn to accept her feelings, regardless of her father’s spell, Gwendolyn decides to take the initiative.

Relieving Oswald of his clothes is simple, allowing her to easily marvel at his pale chest and scars from countless battles. When Oswald tries to do the same for her, however, he is met with formidable odds in trying even loosen her dress. As much of a demon he’s proclaimed to be on the battlefield, Gwendolyn cannot help but laugh at how he fumbles like a farm boy from Titania. Covering his hands with hers, she asks, “Do you require some assistance, husband?”

When he nods, embarrassed, her fingers move deftly on the front of her dress. It’s enough so that she doesn’t have to insist that he helps with the back, letting her slip out of it so that a pool of fabric is around her when she steps out, naked at last.

She takes care, however, to pick up her mother’s dress and place it somewhere off the floor. It’s when her back is turned to him, however briefly, that Oswald can’t stand the sight of how beautiful she is, and comes to turn her around and kiss her.

It isn’t a chaste kiss like the stories she was read as a child; it’s firm and pressing and full of desire. It’s exactly what she wants, and so she returns it with just as much conviction.

Oswald wastes little time after that in lifting her off the ground to carry her to the bed. She makes a noise of surprise, and her heart feels as though it’s fit to burst already as he lays her gently on the bed. All his minor mistakes and flustered attitude seems to have melted away as he continues kissing her. A pair of their hands hold fast to each others, squeezes coming in intervals of pleasure, while Oswald remaining hand traces down his wife’s side, eventually brushing between her legs.

He starts, then, to feel the wetness therein, and her back arches and she bucks slightly. She sucks in a breath as he penetrates with one of his fingers, not too deep, but enough to make her whine and the flesh above her breasts flush slightly. With her free hand, she finds hold in the tangles of his bone-white hair. “Oswald,” she whispers, a faint plea.

He obliges to her unspoken desire, joining her as one as he descends upon her. Falling into a rhythm, slow at first, but eventually gaining momentum fast, excited as they both already are. Her orgasm comes quickly, and she would almost be sorry for it, were it not how exquisite it felt.

Although, upon later reflection, she finds falling asleep in Oswald’s arms afterwards to be the most treasured experience.


End file.
